Made In China
by Entipy of Nothing
Summary: It all started in Social Studies...what happens when I get beamed up to the Enterprise. I will continue this.
1. Chapter 1

I never really _expected_ the communicator to work—after all, I had gotten it off eBay and it was made of plastic with the words "Made in China" stenciled on the back—but obviously I had to try anyway. I was in Social Studies class, fourth period, bored as always. Mr. McSweeney was droning on about some constitutional amendment or other, or maybe it was before the constitution was written. I was supposed to be taking notes, but, needless to say, I had declined. My combadge was pinned on the front of my t-shirt. "Enterprise," I whispered, so nobody would hear me and think I was even crazier than they _already_ thought, "One to beam up."

You can guess what happened next. One minute I was staring at my blank notepaper (except for a doodle in the margin of a Cardassian that hadn't come out right at all), and the next I was standing in the transporter room of the starship USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D, looking bewilderedly at a young Miles O'Brien. (Younger than on Deep Space Nine, at any rate. But I wasn't stupid enough to say anything about _that_.) I hadn't felt anything at all during transport; it was like it hadn't even happened.

"Um…" I said, rather stupidly, now that I think of it. Something was wrong with my mouth. My braces had disappeared. The transporter must have screened them out. Well, that was just an added bonus.

O'Brien was looking at me expectantly, so I stepped uncertainly off the transporter pad and wandered toward the door. "What time is it?" I asked no one in particular.

The computer made that incredibly annoying mechanical beeping noise. "It is 1329 hours."

"Whatever that means," I muttered, not loud enough for O'Brien to hear me. The doors slid open automatically, and I stepped out into the corridor. "Um," I said again. "Computer, show me the way to my quarters." Beeping noise again, and then the wall lit up, showing me the way. Good thing they had this nifty navigation feature. I'm completely hopeless with directions, and all the corridors on the Enterprise looked the same. I followed the lights.

"Lost again, Ensign?" said a voice. I looked up to see Riker grinning at me. Ew. Of all the possible people, it had to be him.

Hey, wait a minute. I was an ensign?

I looked down at myself and saw that I was wearing a red Starfleet uniform, with one rank pip. Red meant command. Also, I had a real combadge pinned to my chest. How old was I? Obviously, old enough to have gone through the academy. I couldn't be that old, though. Probably in my twenties.

"Yeah," I said, smiling apologetically. "It's a big ship."

"See you on the bridge," said Riker. "1500 hours."

Well, at least that was settled. If I'd missed the start of my shift, I would've had some serious explaining to do. "See you."

"Hey, how about coming down to ten-forward with me?"

Omigod. Now I was _seriously_ freaked out. "How about _not_," I blurted, and walked as fast as I could down the corridor.

Okay, I admit, I could have handled that better. But _Riker?_

I found the turbolift and got in. "Deck six," I said, glad I knew that much at least, like where the crew quarters were.

I found my quarters and palmed in. I was really hungry, so I went over to the replicator. I could not wait to try this out. I love the twenty-fourth century. What should I try?

"Computer, raktajino," I said. Now I could finally see what all the fuss was about that Klingon stuff that Kira and Odo always drank. A strangely-shaped mug appeared. Hesitantly I reached for it, still not quite believing it was real despite all the evidence. The handle was solid in my hand. I took a sip.

And spat. Ew! _This_ was coffee? How could anyone _drink_ this? Except Klingons, of course. Klingons like torturing themselves. But Kira? Ouch. Hastily I put the mug back and pressed the button to make it disappear. _So _much better than dishwashers. Honestly. What should I try next? "Vulcan mocha," I decided. Sounded better than stupid Klingon anyway.

You'd think, from the word "mocha"—plus the fact that people actually drank this stuff—that it would be sweet. But this stuff was _bitter_, definition of. I don't even like normal Earth coffee unless it's got about 14 packets of sugar in it. "Computer," I gasped, gagging. "Water, room temperature." Better. But that taste would be in my mouth for hours.

"Tarkelean tea," I said, getting a little desperate. I took a sip. Hmm. Not bad, but interesting. Tasted a little like warm lemonade, which is not as bad as it sounds. Still, not my drink of choice. I put it back in the replicator and pushed the button again. I love doing that!

"Synthehol." Well, what was wrong with that? I was an _ensign _now. Besides, it wasn't like I could get drunk. That was the whole point.

"Synthehol is not available from crew quarters," said the computer, which sounded strangely like Lwaxana Troi. Oh well. Maybe I'd have to take Riker up on his offer after all. Ha! As if.

"Chocolate sundae," I said, reverting to an Earth food I knew and loved. Then I added quickly, "Troi's recipe."

Now, Deanna Troi is not my favorite person. But she makes an _awesome_ sundae. I finished it off with a hot cocoa, also Troi's recipe (hey, you can never have too much chocolate). Then I sat back in a handy chair and said, "Computer, play something by Shania Twain."

"Unknown," responded the computer.

"What!" I sprang up. "This is an outrage! You're telling me with that unimaginable amount of memory you don't have a single song by Shania Twain! Fine. Play something of the genre _country_."

"Genre unknown."

Now I was _really _mad. "What kind of a stupid century is this!" I shouted. "You have that stupid Vulcan music but not—Computer, contact Starfleet command, priority one channel!"

"Please state access code." Dammit. And I was planning to totally flame those idiots.

I checked the time again. 1356. I had an hour before my shift. I knew exactly what I was going to do with it. Holodeck. Best thing the twenty-fourth century ever invented. Brilliant. I stepped into the turbolift and pronounced, "Holodeck 3," so much easier without my braces. I don't know why three, it's just the one they always use on the show. Maybe it's lucky or something.

I was dying to try Worf's calisthenics program, but somehow I didn't think I was quite in its league, and I might end up extending my tour of the ship to sickbay. So I scanned the program list to see what else was available. Sherlock Holmes? Too predictable. Or else too unpredictable. I wonder if they've found Moriarty yet? Dixon Hill? No, that was Picard's domain.

Just then, someone stepped out of the turbolift. It was Wesley Crusher. "Oh. Hi," he said, and blushed. "I didn't know someone was using—"

"S'okay," I said. "What are you doing on the holodeck? Schoolwork or what?"

He shrugged. "Kind of. I'm interested in the twenty-first century lately. I was planning to try out—" He broke off. "But if you're using it, I can—"

"No, go ahead," I said. "I was just wondering which program to choose. When in the twenty-first century?"

"Around 2006 or so," he said. "You wanna come?"

"Sure!"

He entered the program. The computer said, "Enter when ready."

The doors opened—

--and I walked into my social studies classroom.

This was just too much. "Not this again!" I muttered. I didn't mean for Wesley to hear me, but I guess he did anyway.

"You want to try something else?" he said anxiously.

"Yeah," I said fervently. "How about something a little more—" I gestured, trying to find the right word. "More—I mean, did it have to be a school?"

Wesley shrugged, seemingly unperturbed, and said, "Computer, revert to program Crusher-1-alpha."

The classroom changed into my kitchen. Why was this happening to me? "Um…wow," I said. "Look at all these primitive kitchen appliances!"

"How'd you know this was a kitchen?" he asked curiously. "Are you into this time period too?"

"Oh yeah!" I said. "Definitely. In fact, you might say I know more about that century than I do about this one!" I gave a high, nervous laugh that definitely sounded fake. But Wesley didn't seem to notice.

"Really?" he said. "Me too!"

I opened my fridge, half expecting my brother to come stomping into the kitchen. This was seriously weird. There was pretty much the usual inside, a couple of half-eaten bagels, some ketchup, whatever. I wondered what would happen if I turned on the TV and Star Trek was on. Better not risk it. Yeah right. As if.

Wesley touched the microwave. "It's out of order," I blurted, before I could stop myself."

Wesley stared at me. "How do you know?"

I thought fast. "Because—um—it's unplugged. See that outlet there? Usually you put this thing"—I pointed to the cord—"in those holes, but if it's out of order, you, um, unplug it."

"Oh," said Wesley. He touched the cord. "Neat. Plugs. Amazing how much humans have evolved in the last 300 years."

"Amazing," I echoed.

"I mean, they didn't even have the most primitive possible spaceships. They'd never even been to their own moon!"

"They hadn't?"

"Well, the Apollo thing was a hoax, right? Which they found out in 2012—and then nothing else happened until Zefram Cochrane."

"Right."

"That guy was amazing. Just coming up with that idea out of nowhere—"

The clock caught my eye. "Oh man. What time is it?"

"It is 1449 hours."

"Darn. I'm on duty in ten minutes."

"Oh. Well, bye."

"Seeya." I turned, looking for the door, and then remembered to say, "Computer, exit."

There was another ensign in the lift, a Vulcan girl in a med uniform. "Main bridge," I said into the air.

4


	2. Chapter 2

The Vulcan was staring at me for some reason. I shifted uncomfortably, staring at the orange thingy that shows how many decks you're passing. The trip seemed to take ages, but finally the doors opened onto the bridge.

I stepped out, then looked around self-consciously, wondering where I was supposed to be. I was spared the embarrassment of asking, however, because just then Picard stood up from the captain's chair and looked right at me. "Ensign, could I see you in my ready room?"

"Sure," I answered, nonplussed, and followed him. "What is it, sir?"

He looked extremely serious. Not a good sign. At least I remembered to say "sir" at the end of my sentence. "Ensign, I understand you tried to put in a priority one call to Starfleet."

Uh-oh. I wasn't supposed to do that, was I? "Um…yes sir," I said, staring at my feet. I was wearing black shoes. Funny how you never notice people's shoes on TV.

"Why did you do this?"

"Um…" Should I tell the truth? If not, what lie should I make up? _Think fast, Ensign!_ "Um," I said desperately, stalling for time.

"Is this about Commander Riker?"

I had absolutely _no_ idea what he was talking about, but it gave me an out, so I said, "Yes sir," and tried to maintain a neutral expression.

"Next time, you can talk to Counselor Troi or I. Meanwhile, please keep the frequencies clear."

"Yes sir," I murmured for about the thousandth time. I still had no clue what this was about. Maybe it had something to do with Riker asking me to ten-forward. Either way, I was free for the moment. Phew.

"Please go to your station." I left the ready room. The officer at the conn stood up, so I took his place. I hoped I'd be able to figure out the console.

Three hours later, I made my way to ten-forward. Nothing major had happened on the bridge; all I'd had to do was to set a course ("Four one zero mark one"), which was easy to figure out. We were traveling at warp two, I'd learned, on a research mission in some star system or other with a long complicated Greek name. It was now 1800 hours, or 6:00pm. Dinner time.

I sat at a table near the viewport where Picard goes in _Starship Mine_. I actually recognized a surprisingly large number of people from the show. Lieutenant Hawk was there, and Ensign Sito from _Lower Decks_. That made me sad, so I looked out the window at the starfield. It really was breathtaking. I was so boggled that I didn't notice Guinan behind me. She smiled and said, "What can I get for you, Ensign?"

I jumped slightly and smiled back. "Um…how about some hasperat? And tranya?" (Hey, why not? I was of age now.)  
"Sounds good," she said, and disappeared behind the bar. It was fun to try new galactic foods. After this I was going to have a Tarvokian pound cake for dessert.

Luckily Riker wasn't anywhere around, but I did see Geordi and Barclay conversing with some other engineers at a table in the corner. Data was there too. Wesley was just coming in the door with Beverly. He looked over, saw me, and waved. I waved them over to my table. "Hi," I said.

"Hello, Ensign," said Beverly, smiling at me. "I don't see you in sickbay often. You must be very healthy."

Wesley rolled his eyes at me behind her back, and I had to suppress a giggle.

Just then my dinner arrived. Wesley raised his eyebrows. "Bajoran food?"

I shrugged. "I've never had it before. I'm trying a little of everything lately." Well, that was certainly true. Beverly looked disapproving at the tranya but didn't comment.

"Oh," said Wesley eagerly, "Have you ever had Regrean wheat bread?"

"No," I said. "I'll try it."

The med officer from the turbolift earlier had just walked into the bar. She stared at me again. What was wrong with her? I took a bite of hasperat and nearly choked.

At that moment my combadge made that weird little noise that means someone's calling you. "Anderson to Entipy." Entipy…must be my name. Same as my fanfiction screenname. 

Who was Anderson, though? That was my best friend's last name…suddenly something dawned on me. I looked at the Crushers. "Will you excuse me?…" I stepped out into the corridor. "Emma?"

"I've been looking all over for you!" shouted my friend. "Finally I looked at the crew files. It took me ages to find you!"

"Um…how on earth…I mean…" I stuttered.

Just then my combadge made that noise again. "Frizz to Entipy."

"What are you people doing here?" I shouted joyfully. A passing lieutenant looked at me very strangely, but I didn't care.

"Shuttlecraft," said Emma.

"I think it was Q," said Frizz.

"Well, anyway…let's meet somewhere. How about my quarters?"

"If I can find them," said Frizz cheerfully.

"Just use the computer thingy," I told her. "It's really useful."

Ten minutes later we all sat crosslegged on the floor of my quarters, and I introduced my friends to each other. "So how did you guys get here exactly?" I asked. "I just said 'beam me up' and here I was."

"Something like that," said Emma. "I got beamed up by an _Enterprise_ shuttle that was apparently conducting a research mission on this planet Rios IV. I think I was part of the away team. I'm a science officer."

"Well," said Frizz, "I was sitting in my school cafeteria eating cookies, when all of a sudden this penguin appeared. I wondered what a penguin was doing in the cafeteria, so I asked him. He said his name was Fred and he had come to take me out of there. Good thing too, because I had math next."

"And?" I asked eagerly.

"So then Fred disappeared, and then I disappeared too, and I was in this white place."

"Like in _Tapestry_?" said Emma.

"Exactly. And Q was there, and he said he would grant me one wish. So I chose to be on the _Enterprise_. He thought that was a really dumb wish, obviously, but he did it anyway. Brought me here, I mean."

"That doesn't sound much like Q," I said suspiciously. "He's not really the type to go around granting people wishes like the tooth fairy or something."

"That's a genie in a bottle," said Emma. "You're acting weird. Are you okay?"

"Must be the tranya," I said. "I was about to have dessert. Want some? I LOVE replicators. They're awesome."

"You had _tranya?_" Emma groaned. "Oh, _no_."

"What? Do you want cound pake or not? I mean, pound cake. Sorry."

"Tranya is _highly_ alcoholic. You're drunk."

"I didn't mean to," I said huffily. "Computer, Tarvokian pound cake."

"Ooh, Wesley had that in _The Game_," said Frizz, who didn't seem too fazed about my being drunk. I'd only had a few sips.

"With mint frosting," I added, just to make things interesting.

3


End file.
